


It Started With Holding Hands

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: (chapter one - rated M), (chapter two - rated E), (it's not super explicit though), Comfort, M/M, Porn with Feelings, You can read just chapter one and not read chapter two if you don't like explicit stuff, season eight related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13622352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: Danny reads that hand holding can be good stress relief. So he starts holding Steve’s. Things kind of escalate from there....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [It Started With Holding Hands 始于牵手](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824981) by [xuxu9110](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xuxu9110/pseuds/xuxu9110)



> Sooo.... 
> 
> This started as comfort fluff, and got a little out of hand..... and then, it kept going. Um.
> 
> Chapter one is the original comfort fluff story, and you can absolutely read just that. It’s a lovely story on its own, it’s where I originally stopped, it’s what you’d expect from me for a comfort fic.... It’s sweet, it’s fluffy, it’s fairly light.
> 
> If you want “more” and you’re okay with my version of explicit (which so far isn’t super explicit, though this does go further than [“Apples and Kitchen Counters”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13551327) did), chapter two gets deeper emotionally, and more intimate sexually. 
> 
> So, there you go.... I have no idea if this two chapters thing works, but it’s what happened..... I’m really just exploring and seeing what happens....
> 
>  
> 
> There is now a translation to Chinese, by xuxu9110, [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13824981/chapters/31794003).

He doesn’t seek the information out. It lands in his lap, unbidden. That’s the thing about the internet. It takes one thing you look up and gives you fourteen other things you didn’t ask for. Mostly Danny ignores those suggested articles that pop up. But this one catches his eye. Simply because it’s about stress-relief and partners. I mean, those tag words are bound to appeal to him for obvious reasons. The other two words. Well. Those kind of snag in his mind until he can’t let them go.

But he hadn’t sought them out.

Just so that’s clear.

So the thing is, evidently it turns out, that the simple act of holding hands is actually a very powerful stress reliever. It’s also free, it’s reasonably easy, and it’s something he would actually have the power to make happen (unlike any of the other things he’s ever tried to control about Steve’s handling of stress). Which, really, is the only reason it sticks with him. Because the thing is, Danny’s not much of a hand holder. Other than with his kids when they were little. He and Rachel never held hands, it’s just not something Danny thinks to do with someone he is attracted to. It’s something you do with kids while crossing streets. That’s all. He’s never understood the whole romantic hand-holding thing. So, the idea of holding hands with Steve doesn’t seem completely crazy. If he’s honest, there have probably been times he’s felt like he _should_ hold Steve’s hand while crossing streets. (He’s also longed to put him in time out and make him take a nap, so....) But if it’ll help Steve stay healthy, he’ll try it. For the sake of Steve’s wellbeing. That’s all.

Or so he tells himself.

The first time he tries is one night after a rough case. He and Steve aren’t up for going home—and yes, that’s the kind of thing you’d think would alert them to something, but it doesn’t. They wind up at a hole in the wall Chinese restaurant, crammed close together in a booth in the back, drinking hot tea and cloyingly sweet plum wine and mindlessly eating Moo Shu pork that’s too salty and Kung Pao chicken that’s too spicy. They’re too beat up, too emotionally spent to talk. Danny’s feeling himself slide towards melancholy, as he sometimes does after rough cases. He knows Steve’s in danger territory as well, not least because he’d driven the speed limit on their way to eat. And he hadn’t harassed Danny. As they slowly work their way through the much needed but not really wanted food, their hands brush against each other on the seat, in the bare inches that separate them, and Danny reacts before he can think the better of it. He folds his fingers into Steve’s palm, pressing lightly against his skin, and feeling the warmth fill him when Steve closes his fingers over Danny’s and doesn’t let go.

Fortunately years of parenting have given Danny excellent eating-with-his-non-dominant-hand skills, so they stay like that the rest of the evening, not releasing their hold till they get up to leave. It’s only when they’re in the Camaro and headed back to the office so Steve can get his truck that Danny realizes just how soothing that small contact was. His hand feels cold and bereft the rest of the night.

The next time it happens they’re slowly tailing a suspect through back alley stalls of tacky tourist junk, and Danny moves to hold an inattentive Steve back so they’re not spotted. He does so by reaching for his hand and pulling on it to stop his momentum, but as soon as their hands make contact, Steve tightens his grip and doesn’t let go for several minutes—only dropping Danny’s hand when he has to grab his gun. It occurs to Danny that holding hands on a case like that is really only practical. It’s a great way of maintaining contact and the non-verbal communication is helpful, and maybe it’s something they should do more often. He tries not to wish Steve would reach for his hand in the car on the way back to the office. But he kind of does.  

Friday after work, they’re all at Kamekona’s, and Danny’s hand is resting on the bench between them. No particular reason, just for balance or something. Maybe he likes drinking his beer using his left hand. It’s a good skill to practice. Um. He’s starting to feel silly, and is about to switch hands when Steve lowers his hand to rest on the bench next to Danny’s, and they allow their pinkies to twine just lightly, resting against each other while Danny keeps drinking his beer with his left hand and trying to look casual. Meanwhile his heart is beating more harshly than he’d like. But that’s only because he’s hopeful that this is helping. Steve seems lighter after their contact, his shoulders visibly relax. So, that’s good. That’s the whole point here after all, he reminds himself. Right.

Sunday night, late, they get called in for a case, and they’re standing around the tech table, simply waiting on intel for now. And it’s just them, because they’ll need the others to be rested when things spring into action once the information is in. They stand and watch as the surveillance shows inaction. They watch the feeds for updates. And they stand too close together—but they usually do that. And Steve starts getting antsy, as he often does when he’s forced to wait, forced to inaction. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Danny’s just too damn tired for that, so he reaches out for Steve’s hand to hold him still. And it works. Steve settles instantly. He tightens his grasp on Danny’s hand instinctively. He even lets out a little sigh, though Danny’s pretty sure Steve’s aware of none of that.

They stay like that for almost an hour, watching the incoming information for what they need so they can put the case to work, and when it comes, Danny thinks Steve’ll let go of his hand. Instead, Steve pulls him closer, looks in his eyes, and whispers: “Thank you.”

Danny’s not sure how to respond to that, so he smiles, then pulls on their joined hands and leads Steve out the door. Once they hit the hall they release each other’s hands, and they’re off.

It’s a rough week following that—they sometimes are. At the end of it, they all wind up out together some place a bit nicer than usual because they deserve it. Steve’s tucked Danny close at his side, his arm around him as he usually does, and without really thinking, Danny reaches up for Steve’s hand, and holds it, close to his neck, stopping himself before he nuzzles into it. He catches Tani watching. She rolls her eyes slightly, smiles, and pointedly turns away, ignoring the intimacy of the contact. No one else seems to notice, Danny’s not even sure Steve does.

At the end of the evening, Steve offers to drive Danny home and pick him up the next morning for surfing, and there’s something bright in his eyes that’s more than just good food and nice wine. Danny nods easily, “Sure, babe, sounds nice,” without really thinking. Until they get to the Camaro, and Steve opens Danny’s door for him. Something just a little uneasy prickles across Danny’s skin as he slides into his seat.

They’re about half way to Danny’s place when Steve reaches out to Danny’s hand which is resting easily on his leg and places his own hand over it. Carefully not looking down, and decidedly ignoring the fact that there’s no stress anywhere to be found at the moment, he turns his hand over and folds it into Steve’s. When they pull up at Danny’s place, Steve shifts into park and turns off the ignition with his other hand, his right hand still like a weight in Danny’s. They sit, looking at each other, for what feels like a long time.

Eventually Steve smiles. “See you in the morning, Danno.”

Danny’s eyes close and he nods. He doesn’t want to let go. He knows his hand will feel cold and lonely all night. But he can’t figure out what else to do, so he opens the door and gets out. Steve gives his hand one last squeeze as he lets it go, and Danny swears his heart squeezes in response.

As Danny gets ready for bed he decides the whole stress relief aspect of this hand holding thing is complete bullshit. He’s not _relieved_ by holding Steve’s hand. He’s increasingly stressed out by it. And his sleep is starting to really suffer, which is just adding insult to injury. But he’s also really getting the sense that Steve _is_ helped by it. Kind of a lot. So he tells himself it’s worth it, and to stop being dramatic, and to just get over it. All of which is so much more easily said than done, of course.

He sleeps like shit.

When Steve shows up the next morning, Danny’s still bleary and barely functioning. When Steve rings the doorbell, rather than just letting himself in like he usually does, Danny hollers at the door: “Use your own damn key!”

Danny’s sitting on his kitchen counter, waiting impatiently for the coffee to brew, and he’s eating some completely disgusting breakfast bar thing he keeps on hand for emergencies.

Steve, of course, is perky and well rested, he’s probably had a real breakfast as well. Danny wants to punch him.

“Ohh, buddy, you look awful.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s wrong, you not feeling good?”

“No, babe, I’m fine.” He sounds anything but.

Steve walks closer, stands next to Danny, and at this point maybe it’s just become habit, but as his hand rests next to Danny’s on the counter, almost as though they do it on their own, the fingers of those hands reach out and come together in an awkward finger tangle, really more than an actual holding of hands, and Danny lets out a little sound of frustration.

Steve notices. His head tilts, he looks down at their hands, then up to Danny’s face.

“You, ahhh.... _You_ started it....” He begins, tentatively.

Closing his eyes and licking his lips, Danny nods. “Yep. I did. It’s supposed to help with stress relief. I thought it would be good for you.”

He knows, without opening his eyes, that Steve’s grinning. Hugely. “Hey.” He bumps against Danny’s knees. “It does help. It _is_ good for me.” He pauses, and Danny thinks he’s probably waiting for him to open his eyes. When he doesn’t, Steve sighs and continues. “But I get the sense that it’s not so good for you....” He lifts his hand away from Danny’s, and that’s when Danny does open his eyes, because the loss of contact _hurts_. But Steve hasn’t moved away, he’s moving closer. And that hand is moving towards Danny’s face. Resting softly against his cheek, thumb brushing against his lips. That brightness Danny’d seen in Steve’s eyes last night is back, only more intense. “I wonder,” Steve murmurs. “If that’s because you need more....” Danny doesn’t plan to, but he finds himself nuzzling into Steve’s hand like he’d wanted to last night. Before he can stop himself, he’s biting softly on the side of Steve’s thumb, soothing over it with his tongue after, then biting down harder. The soft gasp it gets from Steve makes Danny lightheaded, and he nearly topples over. “Let’s get you down from there, huh?” And Steve reaches out to pull Danny down from the counter, and maybe it’s a little dramatic, maybe it’s just physics, but Danny kind of falls against him, and rather than moving to straighten himself, he stays with his weight resting along Steve’s body, those strong arms coming to hold him in place.

“Danny.”

The room is spinning and Steve’s voice sounds weird. “Mmmm?”

“Tell me if I’m way off base here, but I think maybe we should make out.”

He’s puzzled and can’t be hearing things correctly. He just can’t. “I thought we were going surfing....”

“Yeah, we were.” Steve almost sounds amused. But there’s something else there, too. “But, um. I don’t think you are in a fit state to be on the water.”

He’s right. Danny’s head feels all funny. “No.... Probably not.”

“ _Hey_....”

Oh, god, Danny’s sure he didn’t know Steve’s voice could sound so... warm. Maybe it’s because he’s feeling the sound in his chest. He wants to curl against it. There’s too much clothing in the way. Bare skin would be more helpful. Um.... Steve said something, right? Shoot. “Yeah...?”

“I want to kiss you. Okay?”

Danny blinks. “You do?”

“Yes, you idiot.” Definitely amused. But still so so warm.

“Isn’t that usually my line?”

Danny feels Steve’s chest vibrate. It feels nice. “Yes. It is. But I think it applies here.” Steve moves back so he can look at Danny. “Did you think all the hand holding was, what, meaningless?”

“I don’t know. I don’t usually hold hands.”

Steve grins at that. “You really thought you were just doing it to manage my stress?”

“Um. Yes?”

Steve gives him this little slanted squint, like he doesn’t believe it for a moment. “Uh-huh.”

“Okay, maybe that was dumb.”

Danny falls more against Steve, and Steve relents, letting go the eye contact in favor of putting his hands on Danny’s head. And, ohhh, that feels really nice.

“No, it’s actually one of the better ideas you’ve ever had. I just think it’s driving you crazy because it made you realize you want more.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, buddy. You do.” Steve’s backed himself up against the counter so he can take Danny’s weight more easily, because Danny has still not decided that standing on his own feet seems like something he wants to do. Letting out a breath that borders on exasperation, Steve moves a hand to Danny’s face again. “Kiss me and find out.”

Danny pulls back and looks at Steve. Those eyes are practically twinkling, but the expression on his lips is so serious. And Danny can’t for the life of him think of anything else to do, so he leans in and kisses him.

Turns out Steve’s right, of course. So, so, _so_ right.


	2. Chapter 2

And the kiss is wonderful, but it’s just not enough, and that thought from before about bare skin floods Danny’s mind and he tugs Steve’s shirt off him, up over his head, but breaking the kiss just was a bad idea, so he presses back in, and now Steve’s hands are fisting Danny’s shirt as though it’s offended him somehow but Danny doesn’t want to let Steve’s lips alone for long enough to get his shirt off, so he bats Steve’s hands away which makes Steve whimper into Danny’s mouth and well that’s interesting isn’t it.

Tugging on Steve’s waistband, Danny decides to aim for the bedroom, but he misses and staggers into the wall in the hallway, which seems to suit Steve just fine, and he’s practically rutting against him, and the blood rushes in Danny’s ears, because of course Steve would be as forceful, as aggressive, as jump-first-think-never as he is in life when it comes to _this_ , but Danny isn’t about to let Steve dry hump him in the hall when there’s a perfectly good bed just a few feet away, so he tears his mouth off for long enough to say “Bed. Now.” And somehow that shocks Steve, and he almost shudders against Danny, but he doesn’t seem to know where to move, so Danny grabs hold of Steve’s bare arms, digging his fingernails in probably a little too harshly, though from his gasps Steve seems to enjoy that which Danny mentally files away for later, right now he’s got to focus on shoving Steve backwards into his room and down on his bed, and once he has.... Oh. God. The sight, of Steve I-love-to-control-all-aspects-of-Danny’s-life McGarrett, half naked and hard, flushed and clearly hungry for Danny, practically begging him to just keep doing that, whatever that is.... Danny can’t help it. He stands there, taking it in, _reveling in it_ wouldn’t be a stretch. It’s just so gloriously wonderful.

It occurs to Danny, as he’s standing there, taking it all in, that he’s finally figured out how to exert some level of control over Steve. And, of course, _of course_ it would have to be physical. And he realizes that’s what had done it. The hand holding had just been the first step. For some reason, Steve responds physically to Danny. And whatever that reason is, it lets him have this control. He could make Steve do anything right now, he thinks. But rather than finding that hot or making him hard, it actually kind of melts his heart. Because it makes so much sense.

He slowly lowers himself down, pulling his shirt off, finally, as he goes, and once he’s got their bare chests together, he breathes in the soapy-clean scent of Steve, and before he lets himself back to those lips—because he’s pretty sure once he starts again, he won’t let go easily—he starts to murmur his realizations to Steve.

“That’s why it worked, isn’t it. Because you want me—no, _need_ me—to take control sometimes. To hold you back, to force you to be still. I couldn’t ever make that happen by yelling at you. But when I started doing it physically... that’s when I got through to you. You need that, don’t you. That control....”

Steve almost looks at first like he’s not even listening. Like he’s completely lost in the sensation of Danny’s chest on his, and his hands don’t seem to know what to do, they come up to enclose Danny, but then they fall back as though it would just be too much, then they creep back up, to run up Danny’s arms, but they still when Danny says _physically_. He lets his arms drop back at his side, as if he’s admitting what Danny’s said is the truth, but he can’t do it with words.

It’s what Danny needs, what he was looking for. Grabbing Steve’s wrists tightly in his hands, he yanks them up over Steve’s head, pinning them together and pressing them into the bed. He uses most of his strength, because he wants to make it clear to Steve that he can. It’s the right choice, he knows even before Steve’s reacted. He feels Steve’s dick pulse beneath him, hears the harsh breath sucked in, feels his own breath catch as Steve’s eyes flutter closed. Falling further against Steve, Danny slides his hands into Steve’s, fingers tangled like they’ve been doing, and it feels like the inevitable step from where they’ve been. Somehow those hands, together, and maybe it’s because that’s so new, still, this kind of erogenous zone Danny never knew existed, but it’s become symbolic for them, and it’s about to become even more meaningful, because that contact grounds him. It connects him to Steve in this really fantastic and powerful way. It’s trusting and there’s an equality to it, almost a sweetness, but also this crazy power, and maybe that’s because they use their hands for such forceful and violent things on such a regular basis, and maybe that’s why Danny’s never gone for hand holding, but here, with them, it just fits. It just feels so so right.

“ _Please_ , Danny....”

Steve’s started squirming beneath him, angling for something to press against that will be more satisfying. And his fingers are so strong, so stunningly communicative, Danny thinks Steve could just use them and not even have to speak. But he kind of loves that he has. Because, Steve, begging, beneath him.... There’s just not anything that could be more wonderful.

“Please, _what_ , babe?” He knows he’s grinning, tries not to laugh, but oh, he wants to because it’s so damn joyous a feeling.

“Please _anything_. Something. More. This. _You_....” On the last word, Steve presses up against Danny, hard. And Danny feels his own dick swell almost to bursting. He wants to get their shorts off, but to do that would mean letting go of Steve’s hands, and he’s pretty sure that’s not happening. He’s still lightheaded from before besides, and Steve’s kind of lost in it as well, so he just lets go and follows this need. It’ll be messy and awkward but it’s what they both need and they can take their time later.

_Later. Again. More...._

It’s almost enough right there, that thought, that this isn’t anything other than a beginning.

“I’m going to hold your hand at work if I need to. I’ll use it. When you won’t listen. I’ll use it when you’re being reckless. I’ll use it when you’re being an idiot. Don’t think I won’t.”

Steve’s gasping on each rest, and Danny can’t totally tell how much of that is his words and how much is the press of his hips, but he’s not sure it matters.

“Yes,” Steve mutters. “Yes, I know. Yes, okay, good. That’s good. Yes.”

“You need it, that control. Me. Controlling you. You want it.” And it sounds harsh, it sounds like a power play, but it’s not. It’s this incredibly vulnerable realization, and when Steve nods, when Steve looks into Danny’s eyes, almost painfully unguarded, trusting, admitting the truth of it, it’s their undoing.

It’s been a dang long time since Danny came in his pants and part of him thinks he should be embarrassed, but he’s just not, and Steve doesn’t seem to be at all either. He collapses against Steve and he gives back in to the kissing, and it must be a lot longer than he thinks, but it sure doesn’t feel like very long before he realizes he’s uncomfortably hard in his wet underwear, and Steve must have the same thought at the same time, because they fall on their sides and struggle out of their shorts, then reach for each other at the same moment, hands colliding in the middle, and it sparks something, and they press against each other, hands and dicks intermingling, pressing, tugging, squeezing, and still they’re kissing, so much kissing, lips swollen and already sore, and Danny’d almost forgotten how much stubble can chafe, and how much he likes that, but he hadn’t forgotten how much he likes _this_ , the press of dicks together, slick and hard and powerful. But it’s never been like this before. Which of course is because it’s never been _Steve_ before. It’s never been a swirl of feelings and emotions and connection and years of pent up longing and realizations of time wasted and the ache of it all is too much and not enough at the same time, and Steve sees something in Danny’s eyes because he slows, and he puts his hands to Danny’s face, so tenderly brushing the hair back from his eyes. They’re drenched in sweat, sticky with come, throbbing with want, but all though it, that overwhelming physical connection, that electricity that started with punches and yelling and anger... but really underneath it all it’s always been some strange pull of just knowing this was where it was always heading.

And it’s that thought that makes him need _more_ , and he’s pretty sure from the look on Steve’s face he’s thinking the same thing, and half afraid he’ll regret being so open but at the same time not even caring, Danny reaches under his pillow because he did mention the hand holding had been getting to him, right? And before he realizes it, Steve takes the bottle of lube from him.

“I need....” Danny starts, but Steve kisses the rest out of him.

“ _I know, me too_.”

And of course Steve’s smooth as fucking silk, handling the bottle one handed while he’s still petting Danny’s face, and the sound he makes as he presses a finger inside and realizes that Danny’s not going to need much work to be ready for him just about splits Danny’s heart open, because it sounds like he’s everything Steve’s ever wanted. He’s never felt this full, this needed, this much already a part of someone, so deeply, he can hardly imagine what it will feel like when he’s already so outrageously overwhelmed. But he isn’t going to be able to last much longer without finding out, and he’s feeling led, pushed, drawn, by all the revelations of the morning as he pushes Steve onto his back—and his intent must be etched perfectly on his face, because for one moment Steve smirks and then the bottle’s being pressed into Danny’s hand, and Steve’s relinquishing all control to Danny, with his body and with his eyes, and the smirk smoothes into the most amazing soft, relieved, accepting expression Danny’s ever seen anywhere near Steve, and he feels it like air, like water rushing over him, fueling him, and it takes all his focus to not completely lose it when he smoothes a coat of the slippery lube over Steve’s straining dick, and he’s pretty sure Steve’s not breathing as he slowly lowers himself, desperately slowly, feeling like everything’s slowed to this careful pulse of his heart. He’s halfway seated when Steve’s hand on his chest stills him.

“Just.... Give me a second....” He whispers, and Danny’s kind of glad Steve’s eyes are closed, because there’s no possible way the expression on Danny’s face isn’t the most smug it’s ever been. But he lets Steve regain some control, knowing he’ll take it back soon enough—and there, that thought, that gives him even more strength and resolve and it’s like that adrenaline rush in the midst of chaos and danger, and it’s so so fitting, so freaking perfect that sex with Steve is like this, like a case, like their _lives_. And that is going to push him so far over the edge, and he wants to wait, wants to prolong it, but he needs. More. Now.

“Babe, I gotta move.....” And Steve nods, and he puts his hand down again, letting Danny take charge again, leaving himself open, splayed beneath him, so Danny can take and do and control what he needs, what he wants. And he does. Slowly, at first, then faster because it just can’t last, it’s just too much and not enough and everything all at the same time. And he kind of can’t stand not kissing Steve for much longer, and honestly he wants to be held, and he misses Steve’s hands on him, and it’s just too much, so much. He pauses, and he flails a bit and grabs for Steve’s hands, and he puts them on his chest, and he angles himself just... perfectly... and he’s lost, absolutely perfectly lost, pulsing warm and soft on Steve’s belly, and he’s kissing Steve’s hands, and nuzzling into them, and shifting down, wanting Steve’s lips—and he sees it in Steve’s eyes before he feels his release inside him, and he freezes almost in shock because it’s been so long since he’s felt that and Steve’s face is just _wonderful_. Danny basks in the glow of that, and when he goes to lift off, Steve grabs hold of his hips.

“Not yet... just... wait.”

And something warm and tender spills over in his heart, and he leans down, carefully, resting on his hands, smiling down at Steve, and then Steve’s hands move up Danny’s side, along his arms, to his face, thumb brushing against his lips—just like he’d done earlier, and the weight of this shift, from that moment in the kitchen to this moment now in bed, crashes over him and he knows he’s going to collapse, and Steve does too.

“Alright, come here, come here,” Steve pulls softly on him and he slides slowly down, and he flinches when Steve slips out of him, but Steve’s got him, and he falls easily at his side, and those strong hands hold him so perfectly.

After a few moments they catch their breaths, Steve gets up to grab wet washcloths, and he cleans Danny, so gently, so incredibly sweetly Danny feels like he’s floating, and then Steve’s back against him, pulling him tightly to him, and it’s grounding and comforting and so wonderfully _safe_. He’s never felt so safe, so perfectly safe, and he thinks, if he could have this, every day, surely the whole world would look utterly different. He wants that.

Taking Steve’s hand in his, rubbing his fingers against the calluses on Steve’s palm, Danny thinks _this_ is the stress relief they’ve both needed. And he feels very very differently now, about holding hands.

“What did you think, babe,” he murmurs against Steve’s chest. “When we first held hands.”

“Mmmm,” Steve’s chest reverberates and it makes Danny’s skin tingle. “I didn’t. I just knew it was you, and I wanted whatever it was.”

“And if it had only ever been just that? Just holding hands?”

Steve thinks about it for a moment. “I really don’t see that happening, Danny. Do you?”

“I thought I did....”

“Did you really, though?” Steve still doesn’t believe that.

“At first?” He admits it: “Yes.”

“Mmmm. You’re kind of crazy then, buddy.” He’s amused, but soft and warm and fond.

“Seriously? This. From you.”

“Yep. Absolutely. And you know what? I’ll prove it. Come here and kiss me some more.....”

Danny lifts himself on his elbows and looks Steve in the eyes. “And what precisely will that prove?”

“That it was never going to be just holding hands.”

He sounds so damn smooth and certain, and Danny almost hates to give in and kiss him, but evidently he can’t resist, and he’s lost in it so fast he should be terrified. But he’s not. And Danny really doesn’t even mind admitting that Steve kind of has a point. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to let Steve know that just yet, because he thinks that letting him prove it might be too much fun, and excellent for his health as well, which was the whole point after all.... Except that maybe it wasn’t.... Maybe this really _was_ what he wanted, and he’s about to admit that, but then he decides that can wait for another time, because right now he just wants to keep being kissed. By Steve. Because that really is the most wonderful thing.


End file.
